


Balancing the weight of the kingdom

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book!Canon compliant, Does not include the scene of Lavender acting simpering in the movie, Expanded off-page story, F/F, F/M, Fic starts in HBP, Gen, Not a Lavender/Hermione femme fic, not a ship-focused story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: Ron Weasley has been poisoned and his best mate Harry Potter saved his life. Hermione's been estranged for months over Ron's actions but finds herself by his bedside, distraught over what happened. Unfortunately, there is another person involved who isn't happy over Hermione's return into Ron's life - his girlfriend, Lavender Brown.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "I want to read a fanfic in which, for once, Hermione does some reflecting. In which it’s pointed out that it’s kinda (messed) up that he almost had to die for her to speak to him in HBP. That she needs to do some growing up, too." - from the plot idea originator.
> 
>  
> 
> This story was written off of an idea from another poster on Tumble on and On about the situation involving Hermione and Lavender, and their relationship involving Ron. The idea intrigued me and there was minimal fic on the gen side involving the two witches in particular. The plot alien involved Lavender not being an idiot and Hermione being called to task for some of her less-than-stellar actions, such as attacking Ron with the canaries, and doubting his abilities, in and out of the classroom.

* * *

“Miss Granger, I must ask you to run along. Visiting hours are over and Mr. Weasley still needs his rest.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll go.” Hermione picked up her book and adjusted her robes. Ron smiled bashfully. “Ron, I’ll be back tomorrow to visit after dinner. I’ll bring your school books too, if you want.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine.” Hermione went to the double doors and stood there, watching Ron fiddle with his blankets, intentionally not looking at her but watching her nonetheless through his ginger eyelashes.

“Bye, Ron.” Hermione slipped out into the quiet corridor and leaned into the wall, sliding down the wall to the ground. Fat tears fell down her cheeks, wetting her robes. Thank God and Merlin that Harry was there to shove a bezoar down his throat. Thank everyone that Slughorn ran to get help and help was available.

She was there when he woke, before dinner, and skipped dinner to sit and talk quietly with him, about everything and nothing. He’d hurt her deeply but she’d missed him fiercely, his wit and company.

Yet there was that hippogriff in the room, which they didn’t discuss. He was fine not mentioning her name and Hermione wasn’t about to bring up her name, either. But as long as he was seeing her, she’d have to keep her distance, no matter how much it hurt her. He made his choice and it wasn’t her, no matter how she thought or felt.

Hermione stood up from the ground and made her way back to the Gryffindor common room, checking a few classrooms for students who might be snogging and more. It was late but not close to curfew, when Filch and the professors would be walking the halls for students out of bed and more.

She caught one set and told them off with little ire or fanfare, not even bothering to catch their names or houses. They scurried off after she kicked them out of the room and instead locked the door, finding the quiet of the room a relief.

The last few months of problems hit her like a stack of bludgers aimed at her, knocking her down to her knees. First Ron was being a git for no reason she could fathom, and then Harry manipulating her to get Ron to perform brilliantly at the first Quidditch match. Then she said the wrong thing, being honest like she was sadly prone to much of the time, telling Ron that she thought Harry cheated so he’d perform like a professional.

Sometimes, she questioned her logic and intentions for helping Ron at the Keeper’s tryouts, especially how rude and irritating he was this year. His behavior still made no sense, going from being friendly and a bit humble one day, to a certified prat the next.

But then she returned to the Common room after the Gryffindor win, with Ron playing brilliantly and then seeing him completely engaged with that bint. Didn’t he know she’d been working up the courage to ask him out for more, going so far and forward as to ask him to Slughorn’s party months before such, or how she’d kissed him on the cheek the year before? What had he expected, her to act like that hussy who threw herself at him and snogged him in front of everyone in the room?

Obviously so, after what she’d been forced to witness, much less hear in the last three months.

If she’d avoided him the last four months, for the most part, then why did it hurt so much seeing him lying there in the bed, recovering from what happened? Could it be because she missed him terribly, but his dating _her_ kept her away? Didn’t he understand that by having Lavender as a girlfriend he was snogging kept her away? Didn’t he understand that watching them writhe around like flobberworms in front of everyone made her nauseous? Didn’t he understand how rude it was to his best friend - a girl - a girlfriend he was snogging and more?

Was she even that? His actions, his cruel taunts, his blatant physical displays of affection showed that he didn’t respect her, not while he was seeing _her_. How could she have been so blind to him? He didn’t care enough to temper his rudeness or his vicious streak she knew he had. But then she did too, attacking him with canaries for flaunting his actions in front of her and others.

She stood up and wiped her face before pulling the small compact mirror from her pocket. She’d picked up the habit of carrying it the last few months, to use the glamour charms on her face in an effort to hide her exhaustion and the way her face appeared haggard in the mirror. Unfortunately those who shared her dorm room saw her once without the glamours and that discussion haunted her.

_Hermione dragged in late from the library. She’d avoided seeing Ron and Lavender including missing dinner for the third time in a week. Their behavior disgusted her, from Lavender doting on him like an invalid, feeding him from her own plate of cottage pie at lunch. Lavender treated him like a toddler and he loved it, lapping it up like a baby kneazle getting clotted crème for the first time. Harry, Dean, and Seamus were sitting across from them, laughing at Ron who had some potato on his face when Lavender missed giving him a forkful._

_She left as soon as she saw them, ignoring the growling in her stomach and the depths of emotions flooding her stomach, making her ill._

_It was no wonder why he never gave her a second glance. She refused to dumb herself down or treat him like a perfumed prince, feeding him grapes and lounging about, much less offering herself however he wanted. His selfishness disgusted her._

_When she’d returned to their dorm, collecting her toiletries to prepare for bed, she removed the glamours from her face, intending to scrub her face and apply the moisturizer her mum gave her over Holiday._

_“Lord, Hermione, you need to see Madame Pomfrey! You look wretched.” She looked up in the mirror, seeing Lavender and Parvati in the doorway to their sleeping quarters. “Did you come down sick while on Christmas hols? I bet we could give you some make-up tips to conceal it ‘til you heal up completely.” Parvati broke first, laughing hard. Lavender joined her guffaws echoing down the stairwell. “There’s no need to offer her any help, not like she’d take us up on it. Her head is too much in her books and studies, showing everyone up to bother to act like a girl interested in a boy.” The other two left her in the bathroom, humiliated and looking to crawl down a toilet like Myrtle._

Hermione applied fresh charms to her face, appearing healthier and less haggard, and set out for the Gryffindor common room. She had an opportunity, for the first time in months, to get to bed at a reasonable time, away from witnessing Ron and Lavender tongue wrestling for dominance.

She took the last few steps and spoke the password – Diligence – to the Fat Lady guarding the door to the common and stepped in.

And stopped right inside, her way being blocked by none other than Lavender Brown.

* * *

Lavender stopped when she saw Hermione walking into the common room at a reasonable hour. “Is he really in the Hospital wing, poisoned?”

Hermione froze, trying to sort her thoughts into some semblance of explanation.

“Answer me,” Lavender accused. “I asked you a question. You’re always so excited to answer them for the professors. So answer mine. Where is he?”

“Yes, he is,” she spoke quietly, seeing the gathering behind Lavender in the room. It wasn’t crowded but that could easily change. “He’s up in the hospital wing and probably will be another week, taking essence of rue to get better.”

“How the heck did you know and no one bothered to tell me? I’m his girlfriend,” her voice erupted in a screech. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“I was on my way to Professor McGonagall’s office to ask questions about an assignment. I found out from her, who told me when she was running from her office to the ward.”

“Why did she tell you?” Her face was accusatory, bordering on murderous. “I should be there, by his side. I’m his girlfriend but no one told me. Why? Did you tell her to not tell me?”

“As for why you weren’t informed, I don’t know.” Hermione’s voice took on a frostiness that she reserved for when Ron was being especially prattish. “I thought you already knew, since it happened yesterday morning.” She looked around the room and saw Ginny sitting on Dean’s lap in the overstuffed chair by the fire. They quit snogging at the second accusation uttered and went up the stairs to his dorm. Hermione turned her attention back to Lavender. 

“I can’t go tonight. It’s too late.”

“That’s true. Madame Pomfrey kicked me out half an hour ago so he could get more rest.”

“Oh sure,” Lavender hissed. “You’ve not talked with him for months and now that he’s remotely interesting, you want to be friends and talk again. Well, hello, I’m still his girlfriend.”

Hermione bristled at what she was implying. “You honestly think that being poisoned, and nearly dying from it, makes him interesting? Are you bloody mad? And for your consideration, he is my friend but he is dating you. It would be imprudent to converse with him when he’s seeing you.”

“Oh don’t think that I don’t know what you’re planning. You intend to get between us again, mucking up things I have with Ron. Well, I won’t let it happen. He’s mine, not yours, and you aren’t going to steal him from me, not when you had plenty of chances to date him and didn’t make a move. Well, you missed out and unless he says otherwise, we’re in it for the long-term.”

“You think I want anything but his friendship? You are daft and a bimbo if you think I have any intention to _steal_ him from you.”

“It’s painfully obvious, way I see it, that you have nothing to offer him that I do. You are too busy with your nose in a book to even bother doing the first thing to interest a man. You refuse to take more than a moment to wash your face, and you can’t be bothered to make an effort to appear attractive.” Lavender stood up taller and wiggled her hips a smidge, showing off a heaving bosom. “You also refuse to consider that with what you have,” she sneered and Hermione felt shame at what little assets she did possess, “and how to dress for what you have so you emphasize that gift. But then, attracting a man is the last thing that interests you, isn’t it? You wanted him yet were so painfully lazy in trying to attract him. I can’t help it that you never were able to turn his head for a snog. But then, that is quite tasty fruit, not like you’d actually know.”

“What?” Hermione froze, feeling the first moments of eruption from Lavender’s revelation.

“If you took your nose out of a book more than a minute and bothered to actually talk with someone with the intention of drawing their interest, we probably wouldn’t be here, would we? But then you are content being a bookworm, being the teacher’s pet, and expecting someone to do the work for you romantically.”

Hermione stuffed her anger back down, hiding it in a rarely used mental compartment. Exploding now would only humiliate her further. She looked over Lavender’s shoulder and saw Parvati standing behind her, arms crossed and maybe petulant, while Seamus was sitting with a butterbeer, watching the row. Neville was there, looking abashed and trying to not watch. And Cormac? Grinning like a cunfunded troll, the git.

“Well, either way, he is still my friend, so no matter how I treat him it'll work out.”

“And people say you’re smart,” Lavender scoffed. “You really are daft. You seem to think that men and women can be friends away from romance. That’s bollocks. Now that he has me,” she laughed, and her voice sounded like lead crystal tinkling, “he has no need for you save for revising his assignments. You are redundant to Ron Weasley.”

“You’re full of rubbish,” Hermione retorted. “He’s my friend and you have no say in who he has as friends.” Hermione saw Harry step into the common room from the stairwell, having come down from his dorm.

Lavender took a step forward and pointed her finger, pushing Hermione in the chest. “You stay away from him, Hermione.”

* * *

Hermione stood her ground before Lavender pushed her, sending her falling backwards. She landed hard into the wall and crumpled. Lavender stood over Hermione, looking menacing. She pointed her finger towards Hermione’s chest, waggling it like a wand. “He’s mine, you interloper, you conniving witch and you can’t have him.”

Hermione screamed like someone had peeled her skin off. She scrambled from the floor and turned to run, screaming blood murder. She tore out of the room and sprinted down the stairwell into the castle.

“The hell, Lavender!” Harry yelled.

Harry stepped in front of Lavender, pinning her to the wall with a fierce gaze. “What the hell were you doing?”

“She’s trying to take Ron away from me!”

“No she’s not. He was poisoned and he’s her friend. Of course she’s concerned.”

“But she loves him.”

The common room went dead silent. 

“Of course she does! They are best friends. Why shouldn’t she love him?”

“You idiot! She loves _loves_ him.” _Ohhs_ and _ahhhs_ and a few sniggers erupted in the room. 

Harry ignored it all. “Yeah, she does, but he’s too stupid to realize it, just like she is. But here’s the rub, in case you missed it. He’s not dating her. You are. So she’s not going to act like a slag and come between the two of you. She’s mad at him because he’s being a tosser but she was brought up better than you give her credit for. So quit being a harpy and treating her like the interloper you accuse her of being.”

“I don’t have to put up with this from you, Potter.”

Harry’s voice dropped. “Then go. I need to go find Hermione.”

“Go look in the library. That’s where she seems to hide from everyone, including her friends,” Lavender viciously cheeked back.

“You really are as stupid as you look,” Harry snarled. “You’ve lived with her six years and still don’t have a clue about her, do you? At least you didn’t throw Viktor’s name into it.” He left Lavender in the common room, departing to the accusatory stares from everyone in the room which he was mostly immune to.

“Come on,” Parvati pulled Lavender away towards the stairwell. “It’s not like she’s coming back tonight.” Parvati looked at the collection, from noisy first years to the seventh years, watching the drama end. She shoved Lavender up the stairs ahead of her. “Show’s over, boys. Go ‘bout your business.”

The noise picked up a few seconds later, with Seamus and Cormac talking loudly about the upcoming Quidditch match. Neville had his head down at a table, working on the parchment in front of him and trying to avoid notice. 

The first years started another round of exploding snap and no one in the room noticed the door opening, and Harry quietly sliding back up the stairs, having not found Hermione in the castle. Once again, when she wanted to hide, she was extremely good at not being found.

Up the other set of stairs, Lavender and Parvati were in the bathroom, getting ready for bed.

“You’re quiet tonight. Alright there Lavender?” Parvati dried her face with a clean flannel and looked in the mirror at her best friend standing beside her. Lavender hadn’t said a word to anyone after Granger stormed out of the common room and Harry confronted her over what she’d said.

“Oh, I was thinking,” she started and heard Parvati chuckle, “that it might be the first time that I was absolutely right, and Granger was wrong. I mean, she obviously doesn’t know everything.”

“Close enough to it,” Parvati interrupted.

“But not when it comes to dealing with men and men in general. In that, she’s completely ignorant. After living here all of these years, you’d think she’d have picked up something with us in how to be around men. I mean, she’s friends with Harry.”

“And Harry is a bit of a git,” Parvati spoke up first, “and ignorant too.”

“But she’s been around us years, talking about boys, and clothes, and makeup and feminine things. As brilliant as she is, and she is, I won’t say otherwise, but in some things, she’s takes a T for troll.”

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?” Parvati asked. “She screamed like you cursed her.”

“No, I didn’t. I pushed her barely,” her face flushed, “and she slipped, hitting her head and back on the wall. She only screamed after she crumbled into the ground.” Lavender pulled the bottle of lotion from her kit and put some on for the night. “She acted like I cursed her when I poked her in the chest.”

The two witches continued their ablutions before Parvati made a noise.

“What?” Lavender spoke up. 

“Maybe she panicked. She does have that really nasty curse scar on her chest. You know, the one that is pale white across her skin.”

“That thing? I took it for a birthmark.”

“No, it’s a curse scar. I have one, on my arse, from where my _dadi_ accidentally hit me with one chasing off a rogue tiger. It’s that weird color of pale. But mine is about the size of a galleon, hers takes up much of her chest, from her collarbone down across between her breasts to the bottom of her ribcage.”

“Hasn’t she had that for a while?”

“You idiot. She got it last year. Remember when she was in the hospital ward for like a fortnight, and no one would really speak about Hermione ‘cept to say that she had been with Harry the night Umbridge disappeared in the forest for a few days. There were rumors but everything was kept hush-hush.”

“So?” Lavender sat down on the stool in front of the mirror and pulled her hair brush out. A flick of her wand and her hair uncurled. She stuck the brush into her hair and started her nightly routine, brushing it until it shown, then an additional one hundred strokes before softly plaiting it for bed.

“When she returned to the dorm, I saw her changing for the shower once. I saw her in the mirror and saw it. That is a curse scar and quite nasty, especially if she was in the hospital ward a fortnight, because of it. When you touched her chest she acted like you cursed her.”

“Coincidence,” Lavender continued to brush her hair.

“You think? She’s never acted that way before. Maybe you touched it and she panicked.”

“She was acting, to get some sympathy from Harry. She’s done it before.” Lavender put down her hairbrush and plaited her hair. “I’m tired of talking about Granger. Ron’s mine and I have no intention or desire to do anything about except go to see him after breakfast tomorrow and before charms class.”

“Suit yourself, dear.” Parvati sat down to brush her hair, having neglected it while gossiping about Hermione. “I don’t think she was acting and when you touched her chest. She crumpled immediately.”

“Sod her.” Lavender left the bathroom for the bed.

“Don’t discount the depths of their friendship, Lavender.”

“I’m not. I’m counting on Ron appreciating the fruits I am offering him.”

“Have you?” Parvati waved at Lavender under her housecoat and nightgown.

“We’ve had a bit of fun, but not that yet. I want to, once he’s out of the hospital wing.” She smiled and it was feral. “But Granger doesn’t know that. I let her think that he’s shagged me.”

“That’s being mean, Lavender.”

“No, it’s not. I’m claiming what’s mine and so if she thinks I’ve already let him have a leg over, she’ll back off. Besides, I’d planned on doing just that yesterday, but the bugger had to go and get poisoned.”

Parvati sighed. “He didn’t do it to annoy you.”

“No, but it did happen. It does annoy me since I wanted to test out the theory of red on the head, fire down below.”

“You think he’s going to be worth giving your body to him? You know that first time is never good for a girl.”

Lavender adjusted her breasts under her clothes. “I’ll cope with the first few times, because I’m sure his brothers taught him enough to make it worthwhile once he knows how to use his wand.”

“And if he refuses? You know some guys still believe in honor and chivalry and other noble ideas.”

“He won’t refuse.” Lavender smiled. “He’s already had a morsel of these and I doubt he’ll refuse anything else.”

* * *

Hermione ran from the pain. Each person mortified her soul, flayed it like the swarthy wizard who cursed her did. The curse hit her chest again, searing her skin and her soul. She ran, praying that she could outrun everything racing through her veins and across her skin. The pain in her chest demanded she stop but the lightning racing through her brain made her run faster.

She was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it except keep running, praying that she could outrun the pain. She was moments from dying, her heart exploding, leaving her a husk in the front hallway.

She had to hide. She had to flee. If she was going to die, she was going to do it on her feet.

She jumped down the last four steps and slid across the hall. A wall that was always solid wasn’t and she slid through and kept rolling falling into a heap into a very moldy, solid wall.

Hermione howled from the pain. Everything hurt so much. Her heart couldn’t go any faster.

The hallway around her went dark.

_Sometime later_

Hermione woke up aching. Her head was a chorus of explosions, like a firework from Fred and George blasting inside her head. The dimness of the location did help some along with the solitude but until the explosions stopped, she’d not move a muscle. She adjusted some, sitting awkwardly on the chilly wall helped along with the coolness of the stone under her bum. Tears coursed down her face and she put her head between her knees, like her parents taught her years ago, and took shuddering breaths to try and keep from retching. 

Hermione didn’t hear soft footsteps coming down the stairwell or clunky steps from another one following.

“Oh thank Merlin we found you. Everyone’s been so worried,” Professor Sprout’s voice startled Hermione from her sobbing. “Oh dear lord. Child, run and get Minerva, now.” Hermione opened her eyes and saw the kind face of Pomona Sprout and head Girl Constance Abernathy, from Ravenclaw. The other girl took off immediately. “Miss Granger, let’s get you to sit up straight.” She did and her head exploded. But it was a relief since her heart wasn’t racing and the whole school wasn’t there to witness her mortification. “Oh, that hurts!”

“We’ll get you a pain potion shortly.” The professor did a complicated non-verbal spell over her head. “Nothing is broken and nothing is bleeding.” Professor Sprout was crouched down to her. “What are you doing down here, Miss Granger?”

With the pain in her head, she tried to focus past it to answer the professor’s question. “I –” She froze and felt her heart picking up the race again. “I was running down the stairwell and hit the trick step and slid across the hallway leading to the great hall – and there was a wall there that wasn’t a wall and I fell through. I didn’t intend to end up here, wherever that is.”

“I have no idea how in the world you ended up here, in the dungeons, dear. We don’t even allow house elves down here unsupervised, much less prefects. It’s terribly unsafe, for elves and students. You gave everyone a bit of a fright, being out after curfew and hiding down here out of bounds.”

“I – what time is it, Professor?”

“It’s after 2am, Miss Granger. You’re a prefect and you know the dangers around the school, with the places that are out of bounds. I have to report you to professor McGonagall, merely requirement you understand since this is out of bounds, but I doubt you’ll be in any trouble, seeing as you ended up down here for some unknown reason and you’ve never been in trouble before, so I understand it.

“Professor McGonagall’s been in a fit of temper since you didn’t return to your common room at curfew. All of the professors have been looking for you.”

Hermione groaned. “Brilliant. Just what I need. Bloody brilliant,” she cheeked. Professor Sprout gave her a look but stilled her expression at the swish of tartan slippers coming down the stairs. “Please tell me that you found my wayward recalcitrant Prefect.”

“I did, Minerva. Miss Granger said she was running down the stairs from the common room and hit the trick step and slid into a wall that wasn’t and ended up here. Bugger if I know how she was able to access the dungeons from the front hall. That’s only open at – “

“I’m glad you found her, nevermind how Miss Granger ended up in the dungeons.” The two professors shared a look and a complete conversation before Hermione was given more attention.

“I checked her over and she’s not seriously hurt, except for complaining of a headache. But then down here, it’s possible that – “

“I’ll get Miss Granger a pain potion and then we’ll sort out she went through a solid stone wall later today. I don’t want any more wayward students, upset or not, being able to access the dungeons, accidentally or otherwise. Miss Granger, follow me. We have plenty to sort out, including why you dashed from the common room and disappeared for four hours.

“Pomona, we’ll talk over lunch tomorrow.” Pomona scurried from the dungeon another way, disappearing behind a wall and was gone.

“This way, Miss Granger. We have plenty to discuss tonight.”

Hermione groaned again and followed Professor McGonagall up the stairs at a clip, making the front hallway at the other end, towards the Slytherin common rooms. They walked in tense silence to the Professor’s quarters, behind a tapestry depicting Beowulf confronting Grendel's Mother in a darkened cavern.

“In here, Miss Granger.” Hermione followed the professor into her private quarters, a sanctuary few had the luxury – or their detriment. Professor Mcgonagall went to a cabinet by the door and unlocked it with her wand. She pulled out a dark potion and secured the cabinet again silently.

She took a seat in one of the mahogany leather wingback chairs in front of the professor’s desk. The professor took a seat behind the oaken desk, piled high with parchment, ignoring the fire on the other side and the two cats sleeping on pillows by the fire. She handed over the vial and watched Hermione take the half-dose of pain potion she was handed. Within moments, the throbbing inside her head settled down.

“Better?”

“Yes, Professor. Thank you.”

“Professor Sprout and I will sort out how you ended up out of bounds in the dungeons, gone for four hours and driving everyone mad with worry. You’re not in trouble for that. What you might get detention for is running out of your common room without informing anyone where you were going, driving everyone spare save the young man in the hospital ward? You of all people, being a Prefect and never skirting the rules, should know how unsafe it is running off without telling anyone where you are. You could have been hurt terribly. You, of all people, should know better.”

Every memory from the last two days erupted in her head and she sobbed loudly.

“Oh goodness,” professor reached across the desk to the box of linen handkerchiefs and brought one to Hermione. “My recriminations aren’t the only cause of your consternation.”

Hermione fought the exploding emotional cup and lost, dramatically. She exploded howling before stifling it.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “Go ahead. It seems like you need it. Once you’re done, you will tell me everything that is making you act this way.”

“I,” she wiped her face, “I can’t believe, “she stuttered, “four hours.” Her voice dropped off. She wiped her face three or four times, trying to stiffen her upper lip in front of the witch she greatly respected and admired. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

“How about this, since you seem to be slightly addled tonight and not thinking clearly? I will start what I think is going on and you will add to what I say, or revise what I have wrong. Once I’m finished, I expect you to have told me everything.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hermione used a second linen handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

“I presume all of this started at the first Quidditch match, these months ago. I think the problems started then.”

“Earlier,” Hermione corrected. “A fortnight before, actually.”

“A fortnight before the first Quidditch match, something happened between you and Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione nodded. “I have no idea what I did to cause a problem. But he changed. He got surly and temperamental.”

“So Mr. Weasley is the source of our problems. I gathered as such by some of his behavior in class. But let us continue.”

“Yes, please.”

“So then the Gryffindor Quidditch match, Gryffindor won and then …” her voice drifted off.

“Actually, before, I …”

“Speak up Miss Granger.”

Her face burned, feeling like it was melting off. “I accused Harry of cheating, to benefit Ron for the Quidditch match. He didn’t but I didn’t know that before the match. Suffice to say, I made a mess of things, with Harry and Ron.”

“You have a track record of speaking up to protect Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter. And I can hazard a guess that they don’t appreciate your care for their lives, much less well being.”

“They never do,” she said bitterly.

“So you spoke out, thinking that Harry cheated to win a Quidditch match. It wouldn’t have been the first or last time it will happen, but you would have been right to speak up.”

“They blamed me for everything, even when they won, saying that I mistrusted Harry and Ron could win without cheating.” She hiccupped. “It’s only Quidditch but they act like it’s the most important thing in the world. I don’t fathom it.”

“Well, it is Quidditch. But they’ve not learned that there are things more important. But please, continue.”

“After the Quidditch match, when I returned from the match, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione felt the cup shattering. “He was completely engaged with Lavender Brown. I was upset and left.” Hermione knew that she couldn’t ever admit to attacking him with the canaries. The shame was too much to admit to anyone else.

“And I can assume that your friendship with Mr. Weasley has been broken, since?”

“I’ve not talked with him until today from that day.”

“Why? He’s your close friend.”

“He’s dating someone else. They demonstrate brazen actions in the common room. Things are considerably awkward in our dorm room. I have to hear about their actions, much less seeing it daily. I can only stomach so much before I have to depart.”

“So there’s some malice involved, by subjecting you to these actions, the way you think?”

“I know I have made a mess of things, with Ron, but I dislike being disrespected. I realize they are dating and while I am mad at him, I keep my distance.” She dropped her head. “Their actions make me very uncomfortable.”

“So you are demonstrating that your best friend is only worth the relationship when he’s not dating anyone? That’s rude of you.”

“Rude? How is my honesty rude?”

“Yes, Miss Granger. I said rude. And frankly, jealousy doesn’t help you.”

“Professor,” she tried to start.

“Yes, I said jealousy. I keep my thoughts to myself regarding students but I must interject. I know that you care deeply for Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter. But while I stay out of the lives of students as much as possible, I will have to say this: You are being incredibly stupid, much less ignorant, by being willing to throw away your friendship with Mr. Weasley while he is seeing Miss Brown romantically. You are being considerably foolish.”

“But Professor,”

“I’m not finished, Miss Granger.” Her stern looks backed Hermione into her chair in mortification.

“Since I cannot expect Mr. Weasley to truly understand the mess he’s made of things by seeing Miss Brown, you will have to be the adult here and put aside your petty jealousy. It will be a bin of rubbish, seeing them acting like normal teenagers, and this will be difficult for you. Affection should be private matters but young wizards and witches don’t abide by polite society for a while. But if you value your friendship with Mr. Weasley, then you will have to deal with your feelings for him, and find a way to be happy for him, however long this lasts. Losing that friendship, with someone who means so much to you, over another girl, is one of the worst decisions you can make.”

“Professor, I, um,”

“You think on that at your leisure since I can’t make you take my advice.” She pulled a piece of parchment to her and wrote a hasty note. “But I can see to you right now. You have classes in a few hours and you need sleep. But I also have to do something about you being out of bounds without telling anyone, even if it was an accident. Rules have to be followed, as much as you’ve said. So if anyone asks, you have detention with me Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night for two hours. I can’t let you off completely, considering that you have an unblemished record at Hogwarts but I have to keep to the rules, even if I think they should be amended. You fulfill my obligations this week and it will expunge your record, since this is your first noticeable offense.” She handed over the length of parchment. “This should remind you of your responsibilities as a Prefect, to the younger students, but also to your friends. I also think that the time away from Mr. Potter and Weasley will help you sort your thoughts and how to cope with what is going on currently.”

“Professor!” Hermione stood up in protest.

“Furthermore, this will give you ample time to learn how to deal with Miss Brown. She’s entitled to date any boy, including Mr. Weasley, without your interference.”

“But I’m not – “

“Yet you are in a way you don’t realize. But until you have an idea why, I won’t share that knowledge with you. Besides, you’ll appreciate figuring out a solution for that sordid problem.” McGonagall opened her tin of biscuits, handing over one. “I expect you at my office at 8, after dinner. Now run along and get some sleep.”

“Yes, Professor.” Hermione turned to leave and stopped at the door. “How did you know, about Ron and Lavender?”

“I’m a Professor. I’m supposed to know. Now get a wiggle on.”

Hermione departed, leaving Minerva boggled at the brilliant witch who just left. But then, it was hardly surprising, considering Hermione’s issues in dealing with others. Seconds later, Pomona came into her office, holding a coffee mug that didn’t smell like at all like coffee. “How’s Granger?”

“Poor child doesn’t quite comprehend that lads and lasses make mistakes when it comes to matters of the heart. Miss Brown went after what she thought she wanted, not realizing it wasn’t reciprocated.”

Pomona pulled open her housecoat – in garish yellow, brown and black – and handed over a flask to Minerva. She took a dram of her favorite spirit - the one her father would take a wee nip on cold nights - into her tea cup and took a small swig. “That rough, huh?”

“She’s got detention with me for a few sessions because I can’t exempt her from the rules, but I’ll help her see and understand that her problem will resolve if she can control her jealousy.”

“Oh dear, that is a bit of rubbish.”

“She’ll be fine, eventually. She’s a quick study once she puts her mind to it. In fact, I’m betting on it.”

* * *

Hermione trudged up the stairs to her tower. Today was one of the worst she’d ever had, following the day that she witnessed Ron kissing _her._ How could things collapsed in her life so horribly? And to think, McGonagall blamed her for inciting them to act like kneazles in heat – regardless if its normal teenage behavior, it’s just not right and it’s in bad taste and violates every particular piece of decorum she grew up believing – and she got in trouble when she didn’t do anything entirely wrong.

She made it to the Fat Lady who protested vehemently until Hermione told her off using McGonagall as her reason for being even later after curfew. The door opened and she slipped inside, relishing the warmth but also the silence. The room was straightened, courtesy of the elves and the fire burning hot, probably with McGonagall’s request.

Hermione sat down in the fluffy chair by the fire, refusing to ascend to her dorm floor where _that girl_ slept.

But why was she letting _that girl_ shove her out of her own bed, out of her own private sanctuary, and controlling her? Was it because she had what Hermione desperately desired – and lost out on – for reasons she still couldn’t fathom? Was it because that _the other girl_ was acting in a way that made no sense to her, like a harlot, to have Ron’s attention? And she freely admitted that she’d given herself to him. Was it because she’d been intimate with Ron already?

But then McGonagall was right. She missed Ron terribly, not that she didn’t love Harry too, as a friend. But Ron? She’d missed his wit, his company, even the mess he left every night in the common room, knowing he didn’t have to pick up after himself because the elves did it.

It still didn’t discount the fact that what happened felt like the bitterest betrayal of their friendship. To her that made no sense, losing her best friend over something she had absolutely no control. But what had she done wrong with Ron? What mistake did she make with their friendship? What social rule did she miss in regards to him?

Yet Ron chose _that girl_ over her. But then that girl threw herself at him and he was a guy. Maybe it was because of the body she had. Hermione knew that she couldn’t compete with Lavender, body wise that way. Lavender had the kind of body that most guys would be on their knees for, at least that’s what she could gather from reading Ginny’s rubbish bin romance books she picked up from the charity shops. Hermione had a body and that was the most she could say about herself. She took after her Mum being built slight and with few curves. She’d accepted it years ago, considering Mum and Dad were both slight of build, with Dad broad of shoulder but thin in the hips while Mum, from the Caribbean, still had a boyish body in her 40s.

Why did he throw himself at the first pretty girl? Or was it the other way around?

She didn’t trust him. She doubted him, and his abilities. She let Harry manipulate her.

How could she have lost trust in her best friend?

She sunk lower into the chair, realizing when it started.

She cheated to help Ron win the position for Quidditch.

Harry knew. But no one else, save herself. But at one act, sabotaging Cormac so Ron would win and slide in, not earning it on his own merit, tainted everything this year. Everything this year was corrupted, like a wizarding version of Midas’ touch, including her relationship with Ron.

Nothing last year mattered in the grand scheme of things. Nothing this summer mattered. Everything she worked for collapsed because of her one bad decision. She cheated, causing Cormac to miss that last bludger. She didn’t let Ron perform to his best, proving to himself and everyone else that he was the best qualified Keeper on the pitch.

Regardless of what Ron did or didn’t do, she’s started that bludger on its crash course in her life this year.

But what could she do to start making things right?

Confession was good for the soul, her mother always claimed. It’s not like Mum was an avid Anglican but she would go to church often enough, aside from the holidays. 

But would it help her and help with Ron? She turned the thought over in her mind, falling asleep trying to decide on her course of action regarding her best friend.

* * *

Hermione took a tray with her up to the Hospital ward. Ron would be missing his normal lunch and she vividly recalled how grumpy he could be when he didn’t have enough to eat.

She opened the door, pressing her hip in the opening to keep it open, and picked up the tray. Her lunch was on it – one sandwich and an apple while she’d plated Ron a monstrous portion of roasted beef, creamed turnips, glazed carrots, toast and jam along with plenty of bread, and tea, made with sugar and milk.

She took two steps in the ward and saw Ron was fast asleep.

_Sigh_

She took the tray to his bedside and settled into the chair by his bed. The bedclothes were strewn with Martin the Mad Muggle comics, probably brought by Harry, along with a parcel of sweets, courtesy of the twins, and Quidditch Weekly, by Ginny if she could guess right.

"Why is it the one day I go out of my way to do something nice for you, and instead you're asleep. It seems I'm plagued with poor timing today, considering I slept so fitfully last night. But then you'd not know that, not since we've barely spoken these last few months. You can't know that I've been so mad at you, but then the way you've flung your relationship with Lavender in my face, you probably did." Hermione sighed, trying to compose her thoughts and failing miserably. "Since you're asleep, it's as good as any to confess that all this is my fault." Her breath hitched and attempted to steel her backbone to admit what happened, and instead had to reach for a handkerchief from her satchel and wipe her face once. "I don't know what happened to fracture our friendship, or for you to seek affection from Lavender, but I cheated. I sabotaged Cormac during the Quidditch tryouts. Everything between us that is messed up is my fault." She caught a sob before it erupted from her, shoving it down viciously. "I was wrong to do it. I wanted you to have the spot and instead of trusting you to succeed, I cheated. I didn't trust that you could do it yourself and sabotaged him. I cheated you out of what was rightfully yours, because I didn't trust that you could do it on your own.

"And furthermore," her anger sparked, "I'm still upset with Harry for pulling that stunt, manipulating me, letting you think he cheated to help you get past your nerves, and to get back at me. You were already bent at me and did it because I called him out for it, trying to help you win honestly." She wiped her face and missed his eyes cracking open. "I understand why, I think," her breath caught and she ploughed on, "that you'd want the attention, not the criticism I'm so freely giving. You needed the affection of someone who clearly fancies you so much that she will act like a veela in front of everyone. Anyway, it's my fault that everything is rubbish this year, even if you proved to me that you only see me as your friend and nothing more."

She stopped to dab her eyes and didn't see him peeking through his ginger lashes.

"Professor McGonagall is absolutely right. But then I didn't expect anything less from her. You're dating Lavender. You chose her. You're doing things with her that I dreamed about. But those dreams are fantasy now, burned up in a moment I made by doubting you. I should be happy you're happy with Lavender. I should treat her well because you fancy her and she's important to you. You're my best friend and I should be happy for you, even if you tore my heart out and stepped on it." She blew her nose and missed Ron hitching his breath.

"You're my best friend and that's all it will be, it seems. There's nothing more between us, I reckon. I can't keep pining after you, not when you demonstrated so well how little you think of me otherwise. You don't feel anything more for me, only as friends, not when I seem to have nothing more to offer you."

Hermione poured some water from a glass on the table and took a long drink. She knew she was pressed for time but needed to finish.

"I'm done giving you the cold shoulder. I couldn't help how much what happened felt like you betraying me but that is my burden to bear. I'll be civil and try to be cordial to Lavender, but I'll keep my distance since you are dating her and would be rude of me to make her feel like I was interfering in your relationship with her. You're hers and that's the reality I have to live with." she sighed again. "I do wish I knew what made you so upset with me, so desperate for attention to make you run into the arms of another woman and flaunt it for everyone to see."

“Miss Granger? You need to hurry. Next class starts in five minutes and you don’t want to be late.” Madame Pomfrey stood in the doorway to her office, watching Hermione.

She picked up her satchel and slung it over her shoulder. “I won’t be able to return this evening, if Mr. Weasley asks. I have detention with Professor McGonagall but I will be here tomorrow after lunch.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” Her smile was kind. “He’s reacting to the medication, making him sleep more. He will be back to normal next week when he’s off the potions.”

“Thank you for tending to him,” She scurried out of the door and onto her next class.

She stopped for a second, realizing that she could breathe again, after months of feeling like she was smothering under the enormity of how terrible she felt.

She missed seeing Ron open his eyes, a minute after he heard the medi-witch making noise in her office. Hermione was gone and she wasn’t returning until tomorrow.

Merlin! Nearly dying and finding out that the witch he pined for desperately loved him and wanted him, and instead he went and snogged the first heaving bosom that threw herself at him.

He felt like a bloody git.

* * *

“Ah, there you are Miss Granger. I’m glad you’re on time.”

“Evening, Professor.” Hermione put down her satchel and stood at the front of her desk. “What would you have me do this evening?”

“First things first, if you don’t mind. How much sleep did you get this morning?”

“Maybe 2 hours. I went back to the common room and sat in front of the fireplace, thinking. I drifted off sometime and woke ‘round six.”

“Did you come to some decision regarding Mr. Weasley?”

“I have but I’m not sure about it. I can’t stay upset with him, even if I don’t understand why the way things happened did. But since he’s also seeing Miss Brown romantically, it would be prudent for me to be civil cordial with him but not overly friendly. It would be disrespectful to her, and confuse him.”

“Is there anything else, Miss Granger?” Professor McGonagall’s stern features kept her riveted.

“As much as it pains me, I can’t be mad or jealous of Miss Brown. She might act poorly the way I see it but she showed why she is a Gryffindor – courage and bravery to risk rejection of her forward actions towards Mr. Weasley. But instead, she got what she wanted, which was him. She was rewarded for her courage where my fear held me back and I lost the opportunity of a lifetime. Her gain is my loss and while it hurts, I have to look forward, to preserve my peace of mind.”

“I see you’ve spent plenty of thought on the matter, Miss. Granger.”

“I was caught up on my revisions and had time to think today.”

A ghost of a smile crossed the professor’s face. “Now, can you do what you told me? Can you be mature in this situation and be civil to Miss Brown?”

“You mean being civil, even if I don’t mean it? I’ve been doing that for years, Professor.”

“I do. It’s a very useful skill once you are working for the Ministry. There were many times when I was working in Magical Law that I had a supervisor I could not stand and I would hex them rather than look at them, but by being civil, I was able to cope with their immature demonstrations or sexist comments.”

“So how should I handle the situation when Mr. Weasley and Miss Brown are acting like normal teenage witches? They are rather demonstrative in the common room. Watching them even for a second is rather disturbing.”

“Don’t bring attention to it and act like it doesn’t affect you. That advice seems a paradox but I’ve found it’s the easiest way to cope with such displays. I would be civil with Mr. Weasley and almost cordial with Miss Brown. Their displays of affection are disconcerting, but they should taper off it you act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“And if it does?”

“No one said you were forced to witness such. Besides, you do have a busy term schedule so it's not like you’re spending countless hours in the common room, playing exploding snap with friends.”

“It’s been rather lonely these last few months,” she whispered. “Few people will talk to me unless they have to, and that’s schoolwork related.” Hermione looked up from her hands. “I don’t know how to make friends, not besides Harry and Ron.”

“Sure you do, Miss Granger. Be yourself.”

“That doesn’t work for me, Professor McGonagall. People don’t like a bookworm know it all. They would rather be friends with someone like Miss Brown, who is funny and cute and brassy and brash. I’m none of those traits.”

“You say that now, Miss Granger. And it does hurt, because people besides Mr. Potter and Weasley don’t fully appreciate all that you do for them. But in a few short years, people will appreciate you, for your traits. Maturity that you possess and demonstrate is a rare gift, one of which young people don’t realize is impressive, but only until they are older and hopefully wiser.”

“It doesn’t help right now, Professor.”

“It’s a small consolation, Miss Granger.”

“Yes, Professor.” Hermione picked at her hands while waiting on the Professor to speak further.

“Now, tonight’s detention is for you to go to your bed and sleep. You look like an Inferius. I will see you Wednesday at 8pm and we will talk further, and go from there.”

“Yes, Professor.” Hermione picked up her satchel and went towards the door. “Did you have troubles in school, I mean, with making friends and such?”

“Me? Hardly. I was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and well-liked as well as respected. But I do understand some, being that my father was a Muggle Preacher and my Mum a witch who hid her gifts. That is why I am encouraging you to embrace your talents, not hide them. You are not Miss Brown and that’s not a bad thing. Your successes won’t hinder her in the least, and so should hers not diminish yours.”

“Yes, Professor.” Hermione left with plenty to think and consider.

* * *

_Seventeen months later..._

Hermione opened the window to let in the brown owl. It was small, like Pig, but hardly energetic. She offered a treat from the dish by the window and the owl shook its head slightly. “You need a reply, don’t you?” The small owl hooted.

Hermione broke the wax seal on the parchment and scanned the contents. She knew the handwriting immediately, even after two years of not reading such. She muttered by the end of it and then read it again, making sure that she understood what she was reading.

“I need to get parchment and ink to reply. Just a minute, if you please.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled out the writing supplies and penned a reply, along with a date and time she would be amenable to the request. A week from now would suffice, she guessed, and could run her errands on Diagon Alley as well as stop in and see Ron afterwards.

_A week later…_

Hermione appeared in the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron and stepped out, dusting off her robes for such a short trip over. She could have walked the distance in 20 minutes but didn’t want to be mobbed by patrons out shopping today or any other lookie loos. No, today, she was meeting the three in particular in a room behind the stairwell, per the note. Tom was renting out a two room flat to these witches in particular since it was about the only one in Diagon Alley on the ground floor.

She dashed behind the stairs and went down the dark hallway, going to room number three and knocked thrice. The door opened and a particular witch was standing there, holding her wand and looking serious. “Prove you are who you appear to be,” she spoke in a firm voice.

“It took me four seconds to introduce myself and four months to actually laugh at a piece of gossip you shared with Lavender instead of telling you off for sharing it.”

“Hermione!” Parvati opened the door and admitted the guest. Inside the room was Padma and Lavender, as the letter explained. “Come in. We have tea, coffee, and elf-made wine.”

“Tea is fine.” She took off her robes and settled them on the chair. The twins fixed tea for everyone and they said down, opposite one another, leaving the other two witches facing one another.

“How are you, Lavender?” Hermione spoke first.

Lavender pulled her wand and Hermione fought down the spike of panic before relaxing. Lavender put her wand to her throat and used a charm. “Much better now that some of the wounds are finally healing up. There’s a healer at St. Mungo’s that specializes in Werewolf inflicted injuries. Once he was consulted, and started my care, I’ve done much better.” She took the wand away from her throat for a minute and took some tea, drinking it down quickly. She put her wand back to her throat. “Sorry about that. I can only talk so long before I get choked up. Bloody bastard ruined my voice.” She did a wordless incantation Hermione recognized and saw the magic settle on her throat. “Now I can talk easier without that bloody wand pressed into the tender skin.”

Hermione sipped her tea, listening more than anything else. “You know he’s dead, right? I saw him killed.”

“I heard. The bastard deserved his fate. I sleep better knowing he’s dead. ”

“Do you turn?” Hermione asked.

The twins looked at one another but Lavender grinned, her face contorting from the wounds Greyback inflicted. “Merlin, you are such a breath of fresh air, Hermione. Everyone else tiptoes around the issue, running from me when they see my face, at least. But you? You come right out and ask. Thank you!”

Hermione failed to her shock.

“No, thank Merlin. Poppy Pomfrey asked Sybil and the full moon wasn’t for a week yet when the attack happened. I’m contaminated, like Ron’s brother Bill. He came to see me while I was in St. Mungo’s. He’s so kind and wonderful help. Fleur too. They’ve helped so much.”

“They are and have,” Hermione said softly. Lavender smiled and nodded. “I don’t recall Ron mentioning that Bill was helping you.”

“I asked Bill not to say anything to Ron, seeing our history and all. Anyway, part of the contamination, it seems, is that I can hear considerably more, and see in the dark better. I also now crave meat, the less cooked the better. That’s difficult with them,” she waved her other hand at the twins and they nodded in affirmation, “since they are vegetarians, for the most part. When I need more than I can get at here, I ask Tom and Hannah to whip up something suitable or I firecall Fleur and ask if they have any bloody beef for dinner - or lamb or mutton.”

“We’ll eat Bengali, which is fish and seafood based, but no beef or chicken, much less lamb. But we all make sacrifices, especially for Lavender.” Parvati smiled and Padma did too, with less enthusiasm.

“The hardest part is learning how to do so much again. When that set of stairs was blown to hell under me, and I fell, that did as much if not more damage than the bastard biting me and scaring me. I owe my life to Seamus and Poppy and you.” Lavender picked up her cup and drank more tea.

“You don’t owe me a thing, Lavender.”

“Shut it, Hermione, and let me explain and thank you for everything.”

Hermione offered a half smirk, half smile.

“I don’t even remember him clawing me, much less biting me. I don’t even remember Seamus picking me up and racing to the Hospital ward to save my life. The first thing I remember is waking up in St. Mungo’s two weeks later. Thanks to these two wonderful witches, they,” she took another cupful of tea and Hermione waited patiently. “They filled me in on so much. It seems that everyone thought me dead and they’d already called my parents. But then Ron came to visit and you were crying and Poppy came to look in on me. She found me bleeding and with Parvati’s help were able to keep me alive long enough until I got to St. Mungo’s where they did even more.”

“Ron?” Hermione remembered that day vividly.

_He lifted the sheet off of her face, seeing the thinness on it, and the shadows under her eyes. In repose, she was still pretty. Her gray jumper was coated in masonry dust, soot, and her own blood. The damage Greyback inflicted on her neck was still raw. He wanted to rage at the world that took such a silly girl from it, yet he was too numb from overload to do anything else for the first girl he truly kissed. “I didn’t love you, but I am thankful for you,” his voice carrying across the miniscule room. “I’m sorry we didn’t do more for you. I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.”_

_He felt her eyes on his back. The distance was short but the anguish was a shout. He turned back around and saw Hermione standing there. Silent tears coursed down her face through the soot and blood on it. ‘I tried,’ was all she could get out before she collapsed on him._

“I honestly didn’t know you were alive until I received the parchment last week. The last time I remember seeing you was on that table in the second ward.”

“Well, between blasting that bastard off of me and raising the alarm, even unintentionally, saved my life. According to Parvati, courtesy of Poppy, had you not and Ron left me uncovered, I’d have died right there.”

“How bad were you hurt, if I might ask?”

Lavender picked up her wand from the table and performed a complicated charm, wordlessly. Her face transformed and so did her neck and upper chest.

“Dear God almighty! It’s a miracle you lived through that!” Hermione mindlessly touched her neck, where her own scar was hidden.

Lavender reapplied the concealing charm to her upper body, while her arms were covered in fabric. “That’s only what the bastard did to me. I have trouble walking and probably always will, I reckon.” She took some tea and caught her breath. “Bloody annoying. Sorry. Anyway, I broke my hips and the big bones in my thighs. It’s a miracle I didn’t shatter my spine.”

“Maybe someone softened the fall,” Hermione offered.

“I dunno and reckon I never will. Regardless, I’m alive and so much of it is thanks to you, and Ron.”

“You’re welcome,” Hermione said softly and felt the tears that were constantly running inside her heart threatening to erupt. “Are you going back in a month?”

“No, but it’s not for a lack of desire to finish my actual education. I spoke with McGonagall and I’m too fragile to get around the castle. Bastard who blew everything to hell cocked up my life. It’s physically impossible for me, so I will finish my last year via correspondence. It’s going to take at least a year, if not longer, for me to completely heal, even with potions and magic.” Lavender let out an epic yawn and Hermione bit her tongue in seeing how much damage the young witch in front of her endured.

“Ready for a nap, LavLav?” Parvati asked. She turned back to Hermione, saying “She tires out so easily. But this is better than a month ago, when she could only be out of bed an hour before kipping for four hours. She’s been awake four hours so far, which is incredible.”

“Sorry, sister of mine, but I slipped her a small vial of pepper-up potion. It was a half dose but it worked.” Padma blushed slightly.

Parvati groaned. “She’ll be out of it until tonight.”

“I know but she wanted this most of all.”

“How about I help?”

The twins stared at Hermione. “You mean via Magic? We’d appreciate it but she’s not strong enough yet to handle the effects on her.”

“Let her try, please.” The voice was very soft, almost below a whisper. Hermione turned back and saw Lavender sitting on the edge of her seat. 

She put the wand to her throat. “You’ve always been the best at magic, even as a Muggleborn. I trust you to not hurt me, especially after everything you’ve done for me after what I did to you the year before.” She blushed slightly.

Hermione pulled the black walnut wand from her holster on her arm and adjusted the sleeve, hiding the shaking of her hand. It slowed and she pointed the wand at the trusting witch in front of her. “Where is her bed?”

Parvati opened the door and cleared the way for Hermione to do as asked. “I’ll keep a cushioning charm under her, in case.”

Hermione nodded at Padma’s support. “I might need your help to keep her from tumbling in the air.”

“Sorted,” Parvati said. 

Hermione did the charm, the first one she did as a witch so many years prior. She could do it in her sleep and did often. But unlike a feather, Lavender rose up off the cushioned chair underneath her and wobbled a tic before settling. “Thanks,” Hermione muttered before walking Lavender into the sparse bedroom. There was a double bed in there, covered in chintz and lace and tons of pink and purple, and one chair that didn’t match the wardrobe.

Hermione watched steadily as she slowly lowered Lavender to the double bed, watching her exhale in relief and apparent comfort. She motioned Hermione over, whispering “That’s the first time that anyone’s done magic on me outside of the hospital. And it felt amazing.”

Within moments, she was asleep.

“Thank you for that. She’d been asking us to do that, instead of walking her into the room and her needing a pain potion for the exertion. She hurts so much, all of the time.”

“The nightmares still bother her too.” Parvati was watching Lavender breathing softly. “I do what I can but sometimes she wakes up screaming.”

“I do too. Ron’s there to calm me down.”

Parvati turned back to Hermione. “So you and Ron are together?”

“I’m surprised she didn’t ask.” Hermione went back to the table and sat down.

“We’d heard second and third hand. It was enough.”

“I’ll tell her if you won’t.” Padma interrupted. “She deserves to know.”

“Know? Know what?”

Parvati sighed. “About Ron. Lavender will never apologize for what happened while she was dating Ron.”

“I never expected her too. Besides, after everything, it’s ancient history.” The lie stung only slightly, now.

“Lavender lied to you. She never shagged Ron. She told you that to get you off her back and out of the situation. But you started treating her like it was no big deal, her dating Ron, then he broke it off with her and everything was accidentally sorted.”

_Hermione returned to the common room after the first detention with McGonagall. Lavender and Parvati were on the loveseat, gossiping about Ron and Hermione decided to do as McGonagall asked, being civil._

_“Hello Lavender, Parvati.” She left them gobsmacked and ascended the stairs, ignoring their immediate conversation with the intention of crashing into bed. Sure enough, by the time they arrived to their shared space, Hermione was ensconced in her bed, her curtains locked and sealed, sleeping like the dead until six the next morning._

_It was the best sleep she’d had in months._

“I had decided that I wasn’t going to interfere, but also had to live my life. I didn’t know that Ron was planning that, not since he didn’t talk about Lavender with me, obviously.”

“He didn’t?”

“No. I spent no more than five minutes when I went to visit him in the Hospital Ward before class. He chose her and I promised myself that I wasn’t going to be upset any longer.”

The twins looked at one another, sharing that form of conversation that no one else would ever comprehend before nodding. They turned back to Hermione, smiling. “Sorted.”

“Did Hermione leave?” A voice erupted from the next room. Hermione stood up from the table and went to the bedroom, finding Lavender sitting up in the bed, having rested a few minutes. “No, I’m still here”

“How’s Ron?”

“He’s good. He’s working with George at the Wheezes, trying to open the store Saturday. They want to sell some things before students return to Hogwarts. It hasn’t been easy, helping George and all, but they’re managing reasonably well, considering.”

“I heard he’s with you and has been a while.”

“We have,” she kept it at that.

“He was fun, for a while, but I knew eventually. He wasn’t interested in me as I was in him.”

“He’s rather daft that way, sometimes. I know he was upset when he thought you were dead.”

“I was too.” Lavender smiled and it turned feral. “I assume you’ve already shagged.”

Hermione guffawed. “We have.”

“I presume he’s that good.”

Hermione smiled and refused to answer. She got her confession with the inference.

“I’m glad the two of you are together. You deserve one another. I eventually realized I couldn’t make him happy.”

“Thanks.”

“Besides, it turns out that someone loves me like you love Ron and I didn’t bother to pay attention. Who thinks of regarding their best friend that way, right?”

Hermione smiled at the irony of the statement. 

“For once, I know. I know the look since Ron gives it often. I could tell by the way she smiles at you, today. How’s Padma about it?”

“Oh, she was bent for a while but came around. My parents are fine since she’s my best friend. Their parents are upset, hence all three of us sharing a one bedroom flat here. Padma wouldn’t renounce Parvati for any reason. They want nothing to do with any of us, it seems, and refuse all our owls. It’s a mess but we’ll eventually sort it.”

Hermione understood that thorny problem all too well. “So what are your plans, after you get your NEWTS?”

“I’m obviously not a seer, not like Trelawney, but I have a fair hand at being a Medi-witch but until I can stand long enough at St. Mungo’s, I’m buggered. So I thought of doing a hand at Madame Malkin’s or Gladrags, making clothes. It won’t pay much but it will help keep galleons in the vault. We’ll manage, especially since Padma is going into the Aurors. We’ll scrape by until things settle out.”

“At least you have some plans for the future. I still don’t know what I want to do.”

“Well, whatever you do, I’ll support you. Merlin knows you’ve earned it.”

“Really? I’m a little surprised, frankly.”

Lavender drank from her water glass on the bedside table. “Why? I reckon that what happened in school was normal teenage shite. But then you’ve never been a normal teenage witch, have you? No, not you. You are special and the twins helped me realize it. I was holding you to a standard that was unfair. You’re not me and never will be, and that’s fine now that I see it and understand. 

“Besides, we lived through the worst and I reckon that bullshit is for kids. Besides, I owe you my life. I can start making for it by supporting you.”

“It’s appreciated. I look forward to your letters and owls this year. But you also need to get better, as best as possible.”

“Friends?” Lavender put her hand out. Hermione walked over and shook it. “Friends.”

“Lavender, so you know, that took some bollocks, staying and fighting. Ginny told me how much help you were last year.”

Lavender was dozing back off. “I was doing what you would have done – fighting for those who needed it.”

_Finis_


End file.
